Being Human
by Bryher
Summary: Sometimes it is impossible to see the wood for the trees. Sometimes, that isn't a bad thing. Sequel to 'Almost Human' pilot.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Being Human

**Rating:** T

**Summary:** Sometimes, you can't see the wood for the trees. Sometimes, that isn't a bad thing.

**Author's Notes:** Ohhkay, people. This is an AU piece that is set four years into the future of the film-verse. This places the film's characters at 21/22 depending on where their birthdays fall in the course of the year. If I ask you to do one thing, it's to please, please read the author's notes at the start of each chapter. I'll be including information in them that may be vital to the chapter. I'm not saying that I'll always be saying something profound, but most of the stuff will be useful.

'Being Human' is the main story that follows up from 'Almost Human', the pilot of this fiction. For those that live in the United Kingdom, 'Being Human' also rings a bell as the name of a BBC pilot involving a supernatural storyline: this is not intentional: it is merely because I'm too lazy to delete 'Almost Human', and I'm not allowed to submit two stories of the same name. Go figure. :-)

_Italics will constitute a telephone conversation. _

_Or thoughts. But they will be distinguishable. _

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters from The Covenant, nor the circumstances of their abilities. I (just in case) also do not own the title of this story. I'm a student. Sue me, and I'll only be able to pay you in bad creative writing pieces and Angel Delight, which I live on. There's a longer disclaimer on my homepage.

* * *

'So they're still arguing?'

'_Yeah. One of their worst rows yet, man_,' Pogue's voice said heavily, reverberating through the speakers in the pickup. _'I don't know how Caleb's dealing with it.'_

Tyler sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 'What does Reid think?'

'_You know Reid,'_ Pogue said shortly_. 'He reckons that she'll be gone by the end of the year.'_

'Seriously?' Tyler slowed, indicating to turn left. The windshield picked up drops of rain that splattered heavily across the glass, the grey skies overhead threatening a storm. The speakers rumbled with Pogue's laugh. _'Yeah, seriously. Come on, Ty. You know what he's like.' _

'Yeah,' Tyler replied, flicking the windscreen wipers on, 'but I thought he was seeing some girl that he met at work?'

'_What's this?'_ Pogue said, surprise in his voice. _'He's seeing someone? Blondie Boy missed that out of the last check in call.' _

Tyler snorted. 'You surprised?'

'_No'_, the older man admitted. _'But I thought he was dead against that "mushy stuff"? Maybe seeing Caleb and Sarah and me and…'_ the voice trailed off. Tyler winced. 'How are you doing?' he asked softly.

Pogue said nothing for a long moment, and Tyler frowned, mouthing an obscenity. 'Pogue, man… if you don't want to talk about it-'

'_I'm good, Tyler. It's just still… hard. I don't understand why…' _

'She left after four years of knowing. I know, Pogue. None of us get it, either,' Tyler finished. It was true. Four years after the Chase fiasco, Kate had left. It had rocked the group to the core. Reid and Caleb had immediately taken the stance that Kate was going to tell someone about The Covenant, but nothing had ever come of it. The last they had heard, she was working in a bookstore in Syracuse. Tyler leant back in the driving seat, resting one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearstick. '_She said she was frightened of the power, Tyler._' Pogue said softly, barely audible through the phone-to-speaker system. '_That _I_ frightened her. Why did she stay for so long if she didn't feel safe?'_

'I don't know, man,' Tyler murmured with a sigh. 'I really don't know.'

Pogue sighed on the other end of the line. _'Look, I'll see you when you get to Reid's. Phone when you get in. Talk to you later.' _

'Later,' Tyler echoed. The line went dead, and Tyler reached one hand down to press the cancellation button on the mobile, pulling out the connecting cord that linked the device to the speaker system. Frowning, he shifted up a gear, foot steadily applying pressure to the accelerator.

The last four years had been difficult for everyone. The fight in their teens had cemented a deep mistrust in strangers to all of the Covenant- including the families of the Sons, and anyone intimately connected with them. Every stranger was a threat, every idle comment about the supernatural was scrutinised.

Tyler rested his head back against the leather rest, lost in thought. It was bad enough that all of them had issues with their power, but the unexpected touch to Ascending had been their ability to _feel_ when one of the others Used. Reid in particular had difficulty with this effect, having attempted to tone down the use of his power to a minimum. The attempt to undo the damage he had invariably inflicted in their teenage years had not gone unnoticed by Caleb, whose sympathies toward the penultimate Son had considerably extended. While no premature ageing had yet occurred among any of the Sons, the sight of Malcom Danvers the III's body shortly after the Putnam Barn fight had thrown all of the Son's into a state of sobriety. The experience had drawn them together stronger than ever before: daily phonecalls, text messages and e-mails ensured that none of them ever lost touch, and all of them felt supported.

Turning off the motorway, Tyler relaxed, the familiar landscape lulling him into memories of his youth. It had been four months since he'd been in Ipswich, and he'd missed the dreary place. Autumn was kicking in once more, paving the roads with flame-coloured leaves and darkening the skies with rain.

Passing Spencer Academy, Tyler grinned. It was the same old Spencer, unchanged after four years. Graduation day had been a relief: leaving the place haunted with memories of the boy who had tried to kill them all had been a weight off everyone's shoulders. Pulling over for a moment, he picked up his phone and rattled off a text to Pogue: _I'll be there in two minutes._

Dropping the phone onto the passenger seat, Tyler took one last look at the Academy before pulling away again.

Excitement rolled from the him in waves as he turned up a wooded road and the Garwin family manor loomed in the distance, lights twinkling in the semi-dark. It was like coming home. It didn't matter which house he went to: each and every one had the same feel to it. Gravel crunched under the pick-up's tyres as Tyler pulled to a stop outside the redbrick mansion, the rain falling more heavily now, hazing the view through the windshield as the wipers terminated with the ignition. Grabbing his phone and the black duffle bag from the passenger seat, Tyler jumped from the truck and slammed the door, looking to the house to see a figure silhouetted against the light from the open door.

Pogue grinned, folding his arms over his chest as Tyler dashed over the gravel, duffle bag held over his head to shield himself from the rain. 'Baby Boy,' Pogue said with a grin, standing to one side to let the younger man into the house. 'Look at you in your suit,' he teased. Tyler gave him a mock scowl, dumping the bag to the floor with a thump and pulling the taller man into a one-armed hug. 'Shut up. I don't even get a _"how was your journey?"_'

Pogue laughed, draping his arm around Tyler's shoulders as they made their way down the long dark hallway to the kitchen, which was flooded with light. 'I know how it was; I was talking to you for most of it.'

'Fair point,' Tyler conceded. 'Caleb here yet?'

A shadow darted over Pogue's face, and Tyler shrugged his friend's arm off his shoulders. 'What?' he asked, concerned.

'Sarah's gone to her mother's for the weekend,' Pogue said slowly as they walked into the kitchen. Tyler frowned, then grinned as he spotted a familiar figure at the other side of the room.

Reid turned from the stove, spatula in hand and stripy apron strings hopelessly knotted at his back. 'Baby Boy!' he crowed. 'You're here!' Food forgotten, the blonde dropped the spatula into the sink and strode to the pair, wrapping Tyler up in a hug. Tyler gasped as he was squeezed. 'Reid,' he choked, 'Little overreaction?'

Reid laughed, letting go and clapping the younger man on the shoulder. 'Nah. With us, nothing is an overreaction.'

'I was telling Tyler that Sarah's gone to her mothers,' Pogue said, leaning against the breakfast bar in the centre of the room. Reid made a non-commital noise and snatched the spatula up once more. 'Yeah, so Caleb said.'

Tyler frowned. 'Ok,' he said grumpily. 'What is it that you're not telling me?'

* * *

Riley Thomas sat bolt upright, heart racing. Her phone rang again, juddering across the bedside table with the force of the vibration setting. Grabbing it, she smoothed her wild curls away from her face, flicking it open with nimble fingers. 'Hello?'

'_Miss Thomas? Good morning, it's Charles Hawkins calling.' ' _

Dropping back onto her pillows, Riley closed her eyes, mouthing an obscenity. 'Good morning, Sir. How are you?' _And why the hell are you calling me at nine'o'clock in the sodding morning,_ she added silently.

'_Very well, thank you,_' he replied in clipped tones. _'I trust you are well?_' Riley sat up with a sigh, swinging her legs out of the bed and setting her feet onto the cold wooden floor. 'Fine, thank you. How can I help, Sir?' Padding over to her bedroom door, she unhooked the soft cotton dressing gown, pulling it awkwardly on, shifting the mobile from one ear to the other as she negotiated her arms through the sleeves.

'_I'm calling about the Ipswich case,'_ Hawkins' voice intoned. Riley could almost see him sitting at his desk, papers neatly stacked with the appropriate file in front of him. 'The Ipswich case? I thought it was a closed file,' she said. 'Sir,' she added hurriedly.

'_True,'_ Hawkins replied, '_But recently, there has been evidence that the power has once more been growing in that area- whether because there is a threat or whether it is because of something else has yet to be determined The last time that power surged was four years ago- as you know. We are curious as to what has caused it this time around.' _

Padding through to the kitchen, Riley turned the tap on, filling the kettle one-handed before lighting the gas hob and setting the heavy pot down onto the flame. 'So… what exactly does this have to do with me, Sir?' she asked carefully.

'_Mr. West would like to send you and Miss. Overton to the United States to determine the level of threat posed by the power.' _

Riley yelped as she dropped the sponge back into the sink, where she had been idly brushing toast crumbs from a plate. 'I beg your pardon?' she whispered, horrified. 'With all due respect, Sir, I am not exactly the best candidate for this assignment. We aren't even sure who the warlocks _are_, never mind what kind of a threat they pose! I hardly think sending a half-'

'_Miss Thomas_,' Hawkins snapped, _'We at the West corporation would very much like to see the extent of your abilities- which, as you are well aware, you are yet to exhibit.' _

'So you're sending me to America to deal with a problem that may or may not be dangerous, just so that you can see the "extent of my abilities"?' Riley snapped back, picking up the whistling kettle and slamming it down on the slate countertop.

'_Your plane tickets are booked for three days from now. They should arrive with this morning's post- they will arrive in a manilla envelope along with your details. I assume you can arrange your own taxi?'_ Hawkins asked snootily, ignoring Riley's remark.

'I think I can manage that, Sir.' Riley replied through gritted teeth. Outside, the wind picked up, sending fallen autumn leaves into a small tornado that revolved in one place, the flame coloured shrubbery tunnelling into the bright morning sky. 'Have a good day.'

Riley closed the phone and gripped it tightly in her hand. Looking out of the window, she frowned at the tiny whirlwind. It was barely two feet across, and soaring into the sky. As suddenly as it started, it stopped, the leaves scattering over the small garden once more.

The phone in her hand began to ring again, prompting the blonde to look at the caller identification before flicking it open again.

'You've heard the news, then?'

'_Yeah,'_ Jaime snarled. '_Bloody bastards.'_

* * *

Please Review.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Being Human

**Title:** Being Human

**Summary:** Sometimes you can't see the wood for the trees. Sometimes, that isn't a bad thing.

**Author's Notes**: Dedicated to Marie Kenobi, who pleasantly surprised me with a lovely review!

Secondly, I would ask anyone who is confused by _anything_ in this chapter to please _ask _about it- you don't even have to say whether you like the story- questions are fine. I _hate_ it when people are confused by my writing!

* * *

Riley flopped onto the sofa, a cup of tea in one hand and her mobile phone in the other. 'I don't understand why they're doing this,' she grumbled, taking a long sip from her mug. 'It's ridiculous- the Ipswich file was closed years ago.'

Jaime's sigh on the other end of the line was laden with frustration. '_What _I _don't understand is why they're sendin' us. There are other agents they'd be better off sending.' _

Riley scrunched her nose up, thinking. 'Hawkins said that the higher powers at the company would like to see the extent of my abilities,' she said thoughtfully. 'But I don't get why they're sending you. You've already shown what you can do.'

Jaime snorted derisively. '_They know I can blow things up,' _she corrected_. 'They don't know what _else_ I can do- as far as they know, I could cause a supernova.' _

'You're a half demon, Jaime,' Riley replied with a laugh. 'Not the Human Torch.'

The muttered obscenity Jaime sent Riley's way was interrupted by a clatter and thump of paper on carpet.

'Ah, shit,' Riley croaked, halfway through another sip of tea, rather ungracefully descending into a coughing fit as the hot liquid went down the wrong way. 'Post.'

'_Riley,'_ Jaime sighed, her Irish lilt patient. '_Breathe. It's jus' a manilla envelope.' _

Riley glared at the pile of paper on the doormat. 'I choked on my tea, you silly arse,' she grumbled after she had got her breath back. Jaime ignored the comment, and Riley could imagine the redhead rolling her eyes at the ceiling. '_Go an' get it then._'

Riley held out a pale hand and the envelopes shimmered, fading into nothing. The air above her palm rippled, and the outline of the envelopes began to form. They solidified, and Riley slid them from her hand onto her lap. _'That's cheatin'. You didn' even get up.'_ Jaime groused on the other end. _'Usin' your powers for personal gain an' all that.' _

'I'm a half-demon, not a witch,' Riley sighed as she clamped the mobile phone between her ear and her shoulder. 'It doesn't count.'

Tearing the seal-strip from the top of the envelope, Riley slid the contents out. As Hawkins had promised, an airline ticket fell out onto her lap, along with several sheets of paper with various reports and photographs. 'Usual stuff,' she replied as Jaime asked what the envelope contained. 'Information, times, dates of incidents, possible suspects…' she broke off with a sigh. 'I'd usually be putting this stuff together, not receiving it,' she muttered mournfully.

Jaime was silent for a long moment. _'You nervous, Riley?'_ she asked after a moment.

'Nah,' the blonde lied, looking down at all the information sitting on her dressing gown covered legs. 'Course not.'

Jaime paused, and Riley idly wondered whether her friend would call her on the lie, or whether she would leave it be. Thankfully, the Irishwoman chose the latter. _'Well, my post don't come until eleven,_' she said with a long yawn. '_So I'm goin' back to bed fer a bit.'_

'Right,' Riley replied, distracted with the image of a man taken in the 1950's. The black and white photograph seemed to have been taken in a panic: the image was tilted to the side, so that the frame of the photograph seemed to make the man stand on a tilt. His short hair was windswept, dinner jacket crumpled and his shirt spattered with a black substance that Riley suspected was blood. A car lay on its side in the background of the shot, roof torn clean off, as though the vehicle had flipped in the evident crash: but it was by far the least disturbing aspect of the photograph. The man's eyes were jet black, his face twisted in a snarl as though enraged, looking straight at the camera- most likely at the photographer. 'Give me a ring later,' Riley murmured. 'I think you're going to want to talk about what we're getting in the envelopes.'

Jaime muttered something non-committal, and another yawn resounded down the line before the dial tone sounded. Riley dropped the phone onto the coffee table, shifting the rest of her post to one side before tucking her legs up underneath herself. Reaching for the television remote, she flicked onto BBC One, where the news was still running. The impeccably dressed and coiffed newsreader's voice grew quiet as Riley turned down the volume, turning her attention back to the photograph.

The West Corporation stamp was slightly smudged in the top right hand corner of the picture, and Riley smoothed her thumb over it, frowning. After a moment, she picked up her mobile again, scrolling through the phone book briefly before lifting the device to her ear.

'Aaron,' she said as brightly as she could manage as the sleepy voice on the other end croaked what may have been a greeting. 'I was wondering whether you were free today? I think I need to pick your brains.'

* * *

Pogue stretched out on the leather Chesterfield, kicking his shoes off as he folded his arms behind his head. 'What're we watching?' he asked with a yawn, scrunching up his nose. Tyler shrugged, collapsing bonelessly into a nearby chair. 'Don't care- I'm beat. Reid can choose.'

The blonde raised a pale eyebrow. 'Down to me, is it?' he grumbled lightly, setting his drink down on a nearby table before crouching in front of the wooden DVD cabinet. 'As usual.'

Pogue chuckled and closed his eyes, savouring the contented grumble of his stomach. Dinner had been a simple affair- a roast chicken with vegetables, but there was enough food to feed an army. In a way, it had been a good thing that Caleb hadn't arrived: all three men had gone back for second helpings- and in Pogue's case, thirds.

As though he could hear the older man's thoughts, Tyler grunted as he pulled himself up from his slouched position. 'When _is_ Caleb getting here?'

Reid stood, using the remote control to close the DVD player drawer, the disk vanishing with a whirr. 'I don't know. D'you think one of us should text him?'

Pogue shifted his legs, swinging into a sitting position to allow Reid to sit down. 'I'll send him a message,' he said wearily, pulling his phone from his jeans pocket. 'What are we watching?' he asked as his fingers flew over the keypad.

'Sin City,' Reid grunted, dropping gracefully into the foot-free seat, grabbing his drink on the way down.

'Directed by Frank Miller, isn't it?' Tyler yawned from his armchair.

'Uhuh,' Reid grumbled. 'Shush.'

_Caleb, man. Where are you? Everything ok? _Pogue pressed 'send', and leant back, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table, socks hopelessly sliding halfway off his feet.

Reid glanced at the offending limbs, then yawned, deciding that tonight was not the night that he would be having an argument with Pogue about his housekeeping habits.

Keeping his phone in hand, Pogue watched the film through half-lidded eyes, only half paying attention. It had been a rough couple of weeks. Though he hadn't told his three best friends, he'd gone to Syracuse to try and talk to Kate. It had been getting harder to sleep without her curled at his side, harder to rise in the morning knowing that he didn't have to get a glass of orange juice for her or get the water in the shower running until it was just so.

It was standing outside the bookshop that she now worked at that Pogue had seen her stacking shelves, her movements careful and graceful. Her hair had been pulled up into a ponytail, face clear of makeup. About to push open the door, Pogue paused when Kate began to cough. Pressing a hand to her chest, Kate had leant against the shelves, eyes closed as she swallowed heavily.

Her health had never truly recovered from the Spell of Creation that Chase had placed over her. And it was in that moment that Pogue understood exactly why he couldn't walk into that bookshop and persuade her to come back to him.

It was because she was reminded every time she was ill of exactly what brewed within him, what it could do. It wasn't that she thought Pogue would hurt her. It was that he was what he was: it wasn't his fault, and it wasn't hers, but she could not live alongside something that had almost killed her.

Pogue swallowed as the woman in the red dress collapsed onscreen, face pressed into The Salesman's dinner jacket. He jumped as his phone went off in his hand, the vibrations tingling through his fingers. Reid glanced over. 'You ok?' he asked, a sceptical look on his face.

Pogue nodded, flicking the phone open to read the message. _CALEB:_ _Gonna crash at home. I'll be round in the morning. _

'He's not coming,' Pogue exclaimed, sitting up. 'Gonna crash at home, apparently.'

'Shit,' Tyler murmured. 'Things must be bad.'

'If he's staying at home,' Reid replied, 'then maybe we should have a little house call?'

* * *

Please review. And if there is anything you're confused about, please ask!


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